A Measure of Mercy (41 page)

“Have you thought of asking for a two-year term?”

“Yes, but I’ve not heard back.”

“You could use the telephone if you like and receive an answer far more quickly. Do you have the number?”

“I don’t know. I will check on the correspondence.” Astrid set her cup down on the silver tray. “Thank you. I will do that right now.”

While the operator was putting the call through, she leaned her head against the wall, the black earpiece against her ear. When someone from the school came on the line, she introduced herself, endured polite chitchat, and asked her question. “Do you have a two-year program? I can see being gone from my own practice for two years, but not for a lifetime.” There, she’d said it. The picture of Grace climbing on the railroad car all by herself shot through her mind. If Grace, who was deaf, could travel the country, surely she could get on a ship and go to where she was needed.

“Yes, we do have such a program,” he said. “Of course, we hope that you will reconsider and fall in love with the people of Africa, like so many of our missionaries do, and you will want to go back time and again. Our normal first furlough is after four years, but we have had some medical people sign on for two years.”

Astrid sucked in a deep breath. “I will be finished here in four days and can board the train for Georgia next Monday, February twenty-ninth.”

“We will have a driver meet you at the station. How much luggage will you have?”

“A trunk and a valise, along with my medical bag.” Her voice should be shaking as the rest of her was. But it must have been all right, because he answered.

“That is wonderful. Have you checked on train times yet?”

“No. But I will.”

“We can do that here. We look forward to meeting you. Reverend Schuman has spoken of you so highly.”

“Thank you.” She hung the receiver back in the pronged arms and wrapped both arms around her waist. “I am going to Africa.” She paused. No, I am going to Athens, Georgia, to attend missionary school with possible plans of serving in Africa for two years. Her heart took a leap and sent a small smile to her face. She was taking the next step. All God was asking her to do right now was to take the next step. She could hear her mother’s voice
. “God will guide you step by step, not
mile by mile.”
Why had she not thought of that before?

That night at supper Red Hawk sat down beside her. “So have you made a decision?”

“I have. I leave for the school in Georgia on Monday.” Again that heart leap.

“You won’t be going back to Blessing, then?”

“No.”
I can’t bear to.

“I sure hope you’ve made the right decision.”

“It’s only for two years. I have decided I’ll consider it more like an internship.” Was that another of those decisions that leaped into her mind along with her heart?

“I’ve been thinking. What if you went to help my people on the reservation? I won’t be finished here until next fall, and they need medical care now. What if you thought of the reservation as your Africa? Couldn’t God be calling you there?”

“Hmm, that’s a thought too. Maybe that will happen when I return. After all, I’ll only be gone two years. Think how fast time flies. The hospital in Blessing should be built by then, and perhaps we can do a distance clinic on the reservation.” That thought bred others, and the two talked until the last lights were turned out in the room.

MONDAY AS, SHE looked back at the hospital through a sheet of wind-driven rain, a lump caught in her throat. She was leaving one place she hadn’t wanted to go to and now didn’t want to leave for another that might lead to an extended journey that she wasn’t ready for.

If this is really what you want, God, I will do this. But only for
two years. As Far said, a young woman on a journey like this needs all
of heaven’s protection. Hold me tight in your hands, O Lord. I am so
frightened, but I can hear you saying, “Fear not.” I know you won’t let
go of me. You never have. Why would you start now? Even those months
when I questioned you, I knew you were there. But instead of washes
of the peace Pastor Solberg said you would send me, I seem to get little
glimpses. Is that all right?

She boarded her train, keeping her handkerchief near in case she needed it. If only this train were bound west, the clacking wheels taking her home to Blessing . . . Sometimes obedience could be a costly thing. She took out her writing packet and began the first of the letters she should have written days before.

Dear Mor,

The adventure continues . . .

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

My thanks and endless gratitude to Bill and Jeannie, whose hospitality gives me time and places to hide out while writing a book, usually trying to finish it.

Thanks also to my cohort writers, Mona and Eileen. May our weeks together continue to bless you both as much as they bless me.

Thanks to my readers, many of whom offer suggestions, others who point out errors so they may be corrected, and all who cheer me on. You are why I keep writing. Besides, I love these characters as much as you do.

I thank our heavenly Father for extending us all the measures of mercy that we need and far more than we deserve. To Him be all glory forever.